


The Man with Half-Moon Spectacles

by MagicalFae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalFae/pseuds/MagicalFae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark secrets and hidden agendas. Follow Dumbledore as he battles with a past more terrifying than reality, can he ever redeem himself through the eyes of Harry Potter? Having dedicated his life to one cause, will Dumbledore unlock Voldemort’s secret, or is hope already lost? (HP from Dumbledore’s POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man with Half-Moon Spectacles

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own the HP characters.**

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** Prologue **

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A tingling sensation crawled down his spine. Alas, the thing he had feared most had come to pass. They didn’t deserve this. Ice froze Dumbledore’s insides, giving him the feeling of having bathed in cold water. He bowed his head. No good person did.

In all his years Dumbledore had seen people come and go. He was sorry such people, as inherently caring as the Potters, were truly gone. After sacrificing so much to protect their only son, this fate was regrettable. Had he come sooner could he have prevented their deaths? He knew he would have done anything in his power to do so. No-one knew loss more than he did. It was like losing a perfectly good arm. Living with it his whole life, Dumbledore had come to understand, nothing came without a cost. One could do everything in one’s power to overcome it but it would inevitably leave a scar. Nonetheless, all things should be done with careful evaluation – though one could always slip.

Swallowing, Dumbledore swiftly made his way down the cobbled street through Diagon Alley, his movements sharp and agile. Celebrations were taking place. One might expect it common tradition to participate, but in reality, no one knew the immense power it took, to truly destroy Voldemort. Everyone continued to believe Voldemort had simply faded, but Dumbledore was not fooled. _No_. Tom will never be gone. His absence was temporary, only just to lick his wounds, so to speak.

Eventually he will return, bringing with him the beginnings of a new era. Dumbledore will be waiting, if merely to put a stop to him. For now he had plans, plans that could not wait. Harry needed to be taken to a safe haven. He knew of a place. The only way he could not be threatened or physically harmed. This place would be enough to keep him protected. That he was sure of. His only wish was that everything would turn out well for the boy. There was much to prepare, but so little time. He sighed deeply.

He looked up; the sky submerged under a sheet of black, shrouded the street in darkness. It would have been considered empty if not for the ringing of singing, which hypnotically pounded in his ears on an endless loop, crushing his eardrums. Then being bombarded by the piercing shout and noisy laughter, as high as trumpets engulfing in the night sky.

Orange bright light reflected ahead through the windows of the Leaky Cauldron. The inhabitants of Diagon Alley squeezed into the limited space, pressing against each other’s bodies. He caught a whiff of perfume as a woman bustled passed him in her thick, woollen cloak, bursting open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. A man pushed forward outside; burping, tripping over his own legs and breathing rum in the air. Dumbledore did his best not wrinkle his nose considering the state the man was in. Not to mention the stinking odour of someone who had emerged from the sewers. Significantly, Dumbledore welcomed the heat that swirled out the pub compared to the backlash of the harsh wind that tore through his soft fragile skin. If Dumbledore so much as wanted, he could have stood here forever. But alas, _time doesn’t stop for us; we have to continue on forth as our youth wanes._

Discovering a deserted spot, Dumbledore slinked into an abandoned alley and spun on the spot leaving behind the sensation of walking through time. Barely a moment had passed that Dumbledore found himself in the empty half of Hogsmeade, where not so much as a sound squeaked out. He silently exposed himself to the faint glow outside Hogshead inn. He knew just the man for the job that he had planned to ask.

The snuffle of sobbing forced Dumbledore to stop in his tracks and whirl around. A man the size of a hippogriff sat crouched on the stone floor, wiping his snotty nose on his stained handkerchief; his bushy beard damp from the flow of tears. Dumbledore stepped forward.

“Hagrid.”                                                                            

Dumbledore watched as Hagrid sloshed a huge tankard of rum into his mouth, spilling some onto his beard.

“Hagrid, old friend.”

Hagrid stopped his sniffling and looked up. His eyes widened, “Professor Dumbledore, Sir.” He scrambled up unsteadily, his body shook with repressed sobs, “Lily an’ James-” he blew on his handkerchief, “They’re dead! They’re dead! ‘an old little Harry’s left with nobody.”

The old man’s throat closed, he nodded mutely. He must send Hagrid immediately. No further time could be wasted. Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Rubeus, I need you to do something for me.”

Hagrid cleared his throat, straightening. “Anything,” he said; his voice hoarse.

Dumbledore looked him in the eyes. “I need you to go to Godric’s Hollow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
